Chapter 8 Liam
The bartender set down my fourth whiskey without asking if I wanted it. I did.
My phone was face-up on the bar, screen lighting up every thirty seconds. Mom calling. Mom texting. Mom calling again. I'd stopped reading the messages after the first three, but I could see the notification count climbing. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-three.
I knew what they said anyway. Call me. Liam, pick up the phone. We need to talk about this.
Piper had made the calls. I didn’t have to ask who she told; by now, everyone would know. Piper was never one to leave a mess sitting.
I picked up the glass and drank.
The bar was nearly empty for a Sunday evening—just me, an old guy watching baseball in the corner, and a couple on what looked like a very bad first date three stools down.
It was the kind of place that smelled like stale beer and didn't ask questions when you ordered your fourth drink before six o'clock.
Perfect.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Dad:
Your mother is beside herself. Call her.
I turned the phone face-down and signaled for another.
It was over. Actually, truly over. Piper had done it. She'd called her parents, and her parents had called my parents, and now everyone knew. By tomorrow, the whole extended family would know. By next week, everyone we'd invited to the wedding would know.
And the station. Jesus Christ, the station.
Captain Morrison was going to be pissed. Not just disappointed—the man would be angry. He'd been at the engagement party, had given a speech about how happy he was for us. He'd known Piper for years, loved her like she was family. Everyone at 47 did.
And I'd cheated on her with someone from my own crew. Someone who reported to me.
Morrison was going to have my ass. I’d probably just torched my shot at captain when he retired.
Two hundred people were going to find out that Liam Sullivan was a cheating piece of shit who'd destroyed his relationship five weeks before his wedding.
I pressed my palms against my eyes.
How had I let it get this far? Four months. Four months of lying and sneaking around and telling myself it didn't mean anything, that I'd end it soon, that Piper would never find out. Four months of being stupid enough to think I could have both.
And now I had neither.
Jenna was gone for good. She’d made sure of it when she walked out yesterday, enough venom in her voice to make it clear she meant it. But she’d never been what I wanted, had she? She’d just been easy. A distraction.
Piper had blocked my number. Our apartment was full of her things—her shoes by the door, her coffee mug in the sink, the wedding cake still in the fridge—but she was gone.
I was completely, utterly alone.
And I deserved it.
The door opened behind me, letting in a blast of cool evening air. I didn't look up. Didn't care who it was.
Then someone sat down on the stool next to me.
"Mom sent me to find you," Scott said. "Figured I’d check the nearest dive serving bad decisions by the glass."
I kept my eyes on my glass. Scott was three years older, married with a kid on the way, the kind of guy who'd never made a stupid decision in his life.
He coached Little League on weekends and remembered everyone's birthday and had probably never even looked at another woman since he'd met his wife in college.
Perfect Scott. Here to witness his little brother's spectacular implosion.
He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer. Didn't say anything else, just sat there nursing his drink while I worked on my fifth whiskey.
The silence stretched until it got uncomfortable. I could feel him looking at me.
"So," he said finally. "You want to tell me what happened, or should I just go with what Mom's been screaming into the phone for the last hour?"
"It's complicated."
"Try me. Use small words if you need to."
I stared into my glass. The whiskey was making everything blur at the edges, which was exactly what I wanted. "Piper and I... we were having problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"I don't know. The usual stuff. Work. Wedding stress. We barely saw each other anymore."
Scott took a drink. "And?"
"And I fucked up."
"How specifically did you fuck up, Liam?"
I couldn't look at him. "I cheated on her."
The words hung in the air between us. Scott didn't say anything for a long moment.
"How long?" he asked finally.
"Four months."
"Jesus Christ." He set down his beer, hard enough that it sloshed over the rim. "Four months? While she was planning your wedding?"
"I know—"
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you have no fucking idea what you just did."
I finally looked at him. His jaw was tight, but his eyes weren't angry. Just... tired. Or maybe disappointed. Like he was looking at a stranger.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," I said. "It just—things with Piper were hard, and Jenna was there, and—"
"Wait." Scott held up a hand. "Jenna? Jenna from your station?"
I didn't answer. Didn't need to.
"Oh, dude." He shook his head slowly. "The new girl? The one you introduced us to at the Christmas party?"
"Yeah."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He rubbed his face with both hands. "You cheated on Piper with someone you work with. Someone you see every single day. Someone who knows your whole crew, your captain, everyone. And isn’t she your subordinate?"
"It wasn't supposed to—things with Piper were hard, and I just—"
"You keep saying that,” Scott said quietly. “Like if you repeat it enough, it’s going to sound like a reason instead of an excuse. It’s bullshit and you know it."
“Scott…”
He leaned forward. "You think marriage is easy? You think Kelly and I don't have hard days? You think we don't get tired or stressed or feel disconnected sometimes?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"That's exactly what it is. You had problems with Piper, you should have talked to her. Gone to therapy. Figured it out like a fucking adult. You don't get to use 'things were hard' as an excuse to stick your dick in someone else."
I flinched. "I know that now."
"Do you?" He shook his head. "Mom loved Piper. Still loves her, actually. Dad loved her. We all loved her. She was good for you. She made you better. And you threw that away for what?"
I didn't have an answer. What had it been for? Late nights at Jenna's apartment when I should have been home. Stolen moments in my office when I should have been working. The thrill of it, the way it felt like something just for me, an escape from wedding planning and schedules and expectations.
At the time, it had felt like freedom.
Now it just felt pathetic.
My throat felt tight. "I didn't mean—"
"I don't care what you meant. I care what you did." He finished his beer in one long pull and stood up. "Was it worth it?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Had no answer.
Scott pulled out his wallet and threw a twenty on the bar. "Mom wants you to call her. But if I were you? I'd wait. She's really upset. Dad too." He paused. "And for what it's worth? I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were better than this."
He walked out without looking back.
I sat there staring at the empty stool next to me. The bartender came by and refilled my glass without asking.
My phone buzzed again. Another text. Another call. I didn't check to see who it was.
I picked up my drink and finished it in one burning swallow.
Scott was right. I'd blown up the best thing that ever happened to me.
And for what?
I couldn't even remember anymore.